to the painter who would be king

i guess i will let you burn this one out---
this fatherless turmoil renews itself
by swift turns and self-proclaiming clout,
ladder rung, echelon, hierarchic shelf,
at least you see there are these planes upon
which we are judged before the self ascends,
but you got mixes flowing in you son,
that skip beginnings, genuflect for ends,
and muddy the middle waters with vice.
because now you burn, now is time for ice.
you are not the king. more, you are broken
inside, warbling in perfect trees your flaws,
all who hear may never see who's spoken,
you are a conscience, just a painter of laws.

god plays hide and seek

so the angels are in heaven
doing their thing
and Lucifer steps forward and says

"Hey, let's play a game."

The angels gather in chorus and reply

"What sort of game?"

Lucifer smirks and says

"You'll see.  We gotta get the big guy involved first."

So they go up and knock on his door
boom, boom, boom
and, of course, he's home

"Yes?"

"Want to play a game with you." Lucifer speaks for the choir.

"Oh?...what sort of game?"

Lucifer glows a little brighter and answers

"Its called Hide and Seek."

God doesn't do anything extra-special but is uncommonly curious

"How do you play this game?"

Lucifer, again with the smirk, steps even closer to God and says

"Well, one of us will hide and the rest of us will try to find him."

God shows his favor for the game
by making the whole of Creation
as we know it, in but half an instant.
He asks,

"Oh that sounds like a splendid game. Who hides first?"

Lucifer, the smirk is ever-present, answers,

"You do."

originally Published on AIDYs Poetry Blog


The Revolt of the Angels - Anatole France